


what are men compared to rocks and mountains?

by theholidayclub



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Gen, I wrote this while actually working at a summer camp so that's my basis, M/M, Minor Chowder/Farmer, Minor Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Minor Shitty Knight/Lardo Duan, the camp counselor au I've been promising, the frogs have mentions but not enough to warrant character tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theholidayclub/pseuds/theholidayclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ransom can’t remember connecting with anyone the way he’s connected with Holster this summer. He’s had (and has) friends, best friends even (Camp Samwell staff included in that list), but somehow ‘best friends’ didn’t do his relationship with Holster justice.</p><p>aka: the camp counselor au you didn't know you wanted</p>
            </blockquote>





	what are men compared to rocks and mountains?

**Author's Note:**

> this was written over the span of two months, in breaks between my own experiences as a camp counselor. before this summer I'd never set foot at a summer camp before, so all of my references for this fic came first hand from the specific camp I worked out. sorry for inaccuracies?
> 
> p.s. the title is from pride and prejudice, and that's the extent of the references to that masterpiece

It doesn’t really hit him that he’s back until he hops down out of the van and three different people shout “Ransom” at the top of their lungs. After nine months of answering to “Justin” or “Mr. Oluransi”, it takes him a moment to realize they’re calling to him. A grin lights up his face just as Lardo flings herself at him, and he catches her with a laugh and barely a grunt. She clings like a baby gorilla, and he lets her, barely having to support her with a hand at the small of her back.

 

“Hello to you, too, Miss Duan,” he teases, grin widening as he sees the sources of the other voices come up behind her. No one else jumps on him, thankfully, but once he’s released from Lardo’s hold he does get an enthusiastic hug from Bitty and a kiss on the cheeks and slap on the ass from Shitty. He laughs again, punch drunk over being back at camp with these people.

 

It’s at that moment that Murray, one of the camp directors, comes up behind the group, clapping Ransom on the shoulder.

 

“You gonna help me and Adam unload the van, or are you going to keeping screwing around with these fools?” he asks, grinning in spite of his seemingly harsh words. Lardo is immediately curious, and is peering into the van windows shamelessly within seconds.

 

“Adam?” Bitty asks, also craning his neck as the sound of the van door closing echoes over the field.

 

“New counselor we picked up at the train station on the way - I fell asleep before we got him, so I don’t really - shit!”

 

Instead of looking where he was going as he walked back over to the van, Ransom made the mistake of keeping his eyes on his friends. The results was a full body collision he hadn’t even remotely seen coming. He hits the ground with a grunt, blinking rapidly more in surprise than as a side effect of the fall. When his eyes focus again, he finds himself staring at the most gorgeous man he’s ever laid eyes on in his life (in person, at least. Until he meets Oscar Isaac, he’s gonna go with the blond in front of him.)

 

“So like, I can totally bullshit a ‘sorry’ if I have to, but that was definitely all on you, bro,” the blond (Adam, his brain supplies) says, standing up with a small grimace.

 

“Yeah, no, consider this me taking full responsibility, man. I’m really sorry,” Ransom agrees, scrambling to his feet. “I totally spaced, this is actually really embarrassing. And like, the opposite of the impression I’d wanted to make.”

 

The other man just shakes his head, a small smile on his face, and offers his hand to Ransom.

 

“Adam Birkholtz.”

 

“Justin Oluransi. But call me Ransom, everyone here does.,” Ransom says, accepting Adam’s hand and shaking it.

 

Adam seems like he’s going to speak again, but he’s interrupted as Shitty comes barrelling over, careening into Ransom and wrapping his arms around the younger man’s neck. The look on his face is wild, and probably terrifying to a stranger like Adam.

 

“Did you say ‘Birkholtz’?” he asks over Ransom’s shoulder. At Adam’s silent nod, Shitty releases his hold on Ransom and returns to Lardo and Bitty with a nod of his own and “come find me at dinner” in what is probably purposely an ominous tone.

 

“Camp nicknames,” Ransom explains quickly, grinning at the look of confusion and fear on Adam’s face. “Everyone gets one.”

 

“Right,” Adam says, still looking startled. Laughing, Ransom claps him on the back and ushers him over to the van.

 

“C’mon, let’s get this unpacked before Murray comes back and gives us bathroom duty for a week for not being done.”

 

* * *

 

At dinner that evening, Shitty hoists the blond up onto a tabletop to introduce him to the staff at large.

 

“A round of applause for _Holster_ , everyone!” he booms. The room breaks into cheers, and Holster reclaims his seat next to Ransom, red-faced but grinning.

 

“He’ll change it if you hate it,” Ransom starts, but Holster interrupts with a shake of his head.

 

“Nah, I think it’ll stick.”

 

Ransom grins back at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night, when the counselors are settling into bed, a shriek echoes from the cot across from Ransom. Within seconds, Shitty, Lardo, Bitty, Nursey, Dex, and even Chowder and Farmer are in the doorway and laughing at both the scowl on Holster’s face, and the rubber snake in his hands.

 

Bitty tells him it’s his official welcome to the staff, and when Holster still looks put out, Nursey tells him the story of _Dex’s_ new counselor initiation prank (with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face), and has the whole staff in stitches within minutes. When Ransom looks over, Holster is laughing with the rest of them, like he’s known them all months or years instead of hours. It’s a good look.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of pre-camp training passes, for the most part, uneventfully. Three days into CPR training and lectures on responsibility and tick checks, Jack Zimmermann shows up. He’s as quiet and stoic as he always is when he first makes an appearance at camp. Ransom can tell that Holster’s curious about the man but doesn’t know who or how to ask, so he takes pity on the new guy.

 

“Jack’s the head of the waterfront. But his dad, like, also owns the whole camp. He’ll chill out, though, promise. Guy’s got issues, but Bits’ll straighten him out real quick.” He doesn’t give more details than that - Jack and Bitty are a match people should get to experience for themselves.

 

And Holster doesn’t have to wait long to witness it. At dinner, Bitty is tucked into Jack’s side, teasing him about his choice in meal, and Jack is smiling down at him with the biggest pair of heart eyes. It’s so cute it’s almost sickening, but by this point Ransom is pretty used to it. Holster, on the other hand, hot a glare from Jack over his comment on paddle boarding earlier, and seems unsure about how to react to this other side of the head lifeguard.

 

“Are they..?” Holster doesn’t finish the question, but the direction it’s going in is obvious. Ransom nods.

 

“Since last summer, yeah. Lucky you got to miss all the drama - Bitty being a CIT, Jack being older, Bitty’s parents, Jack’s everything else - now they’re just trying to give Chowder and Farmer a run for cutest camp couple.

 

Ransom expects Holster to ask more question, but the blond just nods and goes back to his own dinner. His smile seems bigger, though, meeting his big blue eyes and making them brighter, and Ransom feels something in his stomach flutter.

 

Well. That wasn’t good.

 

* * *

 

When the first batch of campers finally arrive, somehow both everything and nothing changes. It’s difference in that the space they’d been inhabiting as a staff of thirty now has one hundred campers thrown into it. It’s different because the weight of their responsibility hits them all at once, as kids of a variety of ages and backgrounds are all depending on them now. They have a whole lot of needs, attention being at the top of that list. The days are long and draining and training looks like a walk in the park in comparison.  

 

(It’s different because the kids clearly couldn’t call Shitty ‘Shitty’, and all the counselors still do double takes every time they hear someone say “Coach Knight”.)

 

And then it’s the same, because Lardo is still constantly dripping paint and sarcastic comments everywhere she goes. She’s still the disciplinarian, even if it’s a little more serious with the campers than it was when she was messing around with Shitty and Jack.

 

And Dex and Nursey are still constantly at each other’s throats, arguing over everything from the last piece of bacon at breakfast to who sits in front when they take out a canoe. The campers the think it’s hilarious, and so do the other counselors. Especially because they keep ending up on bathroom duty for all their fighting, which everyone appreciates.

 

Bitty, who talks about nutrition and exercise and hands out healthy snacks all day, can still be found in the camp kitchen in the middle of the night, baking cookies and cakes and especially pies. On longer days, when he’s had a rough interaction with a camper, or he’s homesick, or overthinking his relationship with Jack, he’ll be in there all night. The counselor fridge is always full to bursting with baked goods, carefully wrapped and covered with little notes of encouragement.

 

Jack, who was always the perfect picture of serious during pre-camp training and at the waterfront, is in a constant state of happy mush as the summer goes on. Whether it’s due to Bitty or the clingy younger kids, no one’s really sure, but it’s a refreshingly beautiful image.

 

One thing that remains consistent even with the addition of campers (and Ransom hated to admit he worried about it, but he did, probably too much) is his growing _whatever_ with Holster. Ever since that first night of training, when they’d moved into their Dragonfly cabin (boys ages 8 and 9) the two of them had just clicked.

 

Ransom can’t remember connecting with anyone the way he’s connected with Holster this summer. He’s had (and has) friends, best friends even (Camp Samwell staff included in that list), but somehow ‘best friends’ didn’t do his relationship with Holster justice.

 

Not that he was about to start labeling it anything else just yet. He’s too worried about jinxing whatever’s building between them, and he’s got too much riding on it (his emotions and the meager dignity he posses, mostly) to fuck it up before it’s even started.

 

* * *

 

Saying goodbye to the campers at the end of the session is never easy, mostly because they’re all crying and forgetting to pack half the things they brought to camp with them. And Ransom is a little sad to see them go - ten days doesn’t seem like a long time, but he’d managed to form solid connections with all the kids in his and Holster’s cabin, and he’s gonna miss them.

 

Mostly though, the hardest part is dragging through the morning, exhausted, trying to clean up camp and prep for the next session of campers, in order to finish and get to the two most beautiful words in the English language: time off.

 

The planning of intercession trips is a hallowed practice when there's only approximately forty kid-free hours; it's vital to figure out the best way to make use of every single minute. Especially when camp is only a few hours out from one of the greatest tourist traps in the States.

 

Ransom, who goes to school in Massachusetts, has been working on the schedule for his day off for five days now, in between finishing power points for his online summer class. He's determined to show Holster all of his favorite spots in Boston - mostly in the hopes that the New York native will stop talking so much shit. Random may be from Toronto, but Massachusetts is his second home. He wants it to be appreciated.

 

Of course, Jack and Bitty and Lardo and Shitty are coming along for the drive, too. It's tradition, not to mention the camp only has so many cars for the counsellors to borrow. Ransom has been attempting to convince himself that he's not bothered by the attendance of his friends. This isn't a date. He just asked if Holster wanted to come along and was pleasantly surprised when Holster said yes.

 

It still feels important. It _is_ important. It's taking their friendship to the next level… platonically.

 

* * *

 

The morning after the first round of campers leave, Ransom piles Holster, Jack, Bitty, Shitty, Lardo, and himself into Coach Hall’s minivan. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, but no one complains about the early hour. The night before had been about fast food and catching up on social media. This day, their one full kid-free day, was when the big guns were pulled out. Part of that magic involved getting up early to account for the drive time. (Coffee was the next biggest part, and the first thing they did once they reached civilization.)

 

It’s not a terribly long drive, but that doesn’t stop Bitty from creating a custom playlist or packing snacks for the trip. The two hours of highways and illegal U-Turns did fly by, though, and not just because of Shitty’s lack of respect for speed limits on empty roads. When they finally reach the city and find parking, it’s nearing eight in the morning, and the group has the whole day in front of them.

 

For most of the morning they stick together, walking around playing tourists. They duck in and out of gift shops and novelty stores, stop at one bakery for bagels and a completely different one five blocks over for coffee and danishes. At lunch time, they refuel at a food truck, and that’s when talks of splitting up start.

 

Bitty and Jack want some time for themselves, which everyone else is more than willing to give them. Shitty apparently owes Lardo a museum trip after losing a bet, though the whole thing sounds suspiciously like a first date (finally). The two pairs wander off in opposite directions, leaving Ransom and Holster to head off together.

 

Now, faced with this one-on-one time with Holster, Ransom is suddenly feeling nervous. Excited, and a little anxious as well, but definitely mostly nervous. He hadn’t anticipated being given this prime wooing opportunity, and now that it’s in front of him, he’s not entirely sure what to do with it.

 

“Wanna walk by Fenway?” he asks, tossing the wrapper from his vendor hot dog into a nearby trashcan?

 

Holster nods, throwing out his own trains, and the pair start off in the direction of the famous ball park.

 

The walk is quiet, but not in an awkward way. Ransom can appreciate the lack of pressure to fill the silence that he’s used to experiencing on dates.

 

Not that this is a date.

 

… Except it kind of is a date. It feels a lot like a date. As they walk, Ransom keeps stealing glances over at Holster, and more than once he’s caught Holster eye because the blond was looking at him, too. Ransom can’t help but think that if he reached for Holster’s hand, he wouldn’t be rejected. He thinks Holster would hold his hand, if Ransom could just take that first step.

 

He doesn’t take the step. Instead, he takes Holster all over the city, walking and taking the T and even renting a bike at one point. They laugh and talk and sometimes they just exist in the same space together, and when they rejoin the rest of the group to head back to the car, and to camp, Ransom feels a little disappointed about it.

 

The drive back is quieter than the drive in the morning was, everyone tired and content and ready to crawl back into bed to mentally prepare for the next group of kids. Bitty’s playlist plays at a low volume through the car, and it’s dark again when they make it back to camp. Everyone unpacks their things from the car, chat sleepily for a few minutes, and meander off to their cabins.

 

* * *

 

The cabin is so quiet as Ransom gets ready for bed, without the sound of over-excited and over-sugared boys running around to fill the silence. He can hear every bit of Holster digging through his duffel bag for his sleep clothes, listens to the door creak open as he leaves to brush his teeth in the bathhouse, and again as he comes back inside. Every inch of Ransom is aware of Holster in those moments.

 

He wants to do something. He wants to say something, make a move, express his interest, and know if he’s been imagining the _whatever_ building between them over the past few weeks. He wants to, but he’s fucking terrified.

 

“Rans?”

 

At the nickname, he turns around, still holding the t-shirt he’s planning on sleeping in tight in his hands. Holster is five steps ahead of him, looking fresh and together and ready for bed, although there’s no sign of their long day in the look in his eyes.

 

“Yeah?”

 

It feels like a big moment, even as it drags slowly forward. Holster moves towards Ransom, and Ransom holds his breath, and then lets it go in an embarrassing huff, tingly all over. Something’s happening, and whatever it is, he feels like he’s waited years for it.

 

Holster reaches forward and takes Ransom’s hand, like Ransom should have done with him in the city. Ransom’s the one to lace their fingers together, though, and the corner of Holster’s mouth twitches up in response. Ransom’s heart speeds up.

 

“Today was good. Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They’ll both claim to be the first to move forward, fill the last of the space between them, initiate that first kiss, and Ransom can hardly tell who it really was, because it’s all the moments after that he’s really going to remember. His hands on Holster’s jaw, his neck, the small of his back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His hands _under_ Holster’s t-shirt, the solid feeling of his abs, his chest, running over his shoulders before he pulls the t-shirt off the blond completely. And then Holster, fingers hooked in the waistband of Ransom’s joggers, his warm breath on his neck, the way his breath catches at the way Holster whispers “Justin” before he peppers kisses along his neck.

 

In comparison, which one of them started the kiss hardly matters at all.

 

* * *

 

At breakfast the next morning, Ransom is buttering a bagel and determinedly keeping a straight face despite Holster’s hand on his leg on the table. He knows the rest of the staff won’t _care_ that he and Holster are (finally) together, but he doesn’t really want to listen to them chirp him about it this early in the morning. He’ll tell people as the day goes on, not make it any kind of a big deal.

 

His poker face falls away when Shitty sits down across from him, plucks the bagel from his hand, and says,

 

“Congrats on getting lucky, bro. Knew you two would get your shit together. We could hear you dogs across the fucking field.”

 

Around him, the staff howls and cheers, chirps already flying through the dining hall. Ransom glances over at Holster, who’s red in the face but grinning broadly.

 

So he snatches his bagel back from Shitty, and takes the chirps. Cause really? Being with Holster is totally worth the teasing.

**Author's Note:**

> cry about these losers with me [on tumblr](http://kpcrson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
